Unpredictable
by Burst.ofSILENCE
Summary: "The only thing predictable about him is his unpredictability. I mean, I'm the Oracle and even I can't keep up." Oneshot; Nico/Rachel


**Hola, mi amigos/amigas! Sorry I haven't been around lately :( SO TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU ALL, here's a Nico/Rachel oneshot. A**s we've seen in Son of Neptune, our 'bby Nico is all kinds of unpredictable and, well, it makes me wonder how Rachel puts up with all that. Hence, this little thing. ** I actually posted this on LiveJournal back in November. Only now do I realize I haven't posted it here yet. I know; I fail. ******

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians**

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><p><strong>Unpredictable<strong>  
><em>It's sort of a default setting. <em>

"Wow," He comments, smirking. "You look like a princess, Dare."

"Shut up, Nico." She grumbles. "These six-inch stilettos are killer."

As if her sour mood isn't enough, her dress just _has_ to be itchy (internationally-acclaimed designer label be damned; she is _so not_ going back to that place) and her hair just _has_to feel ridiculously heavy with all the hairspray used to keep her messy bun up. She's so damn uncomfortable, and for what?

She looks at the double doors at the end of the lavish hallway they were standing in, knowing that they led to the enormous function room and her imminent doom.

Rachel hates it when her father throws these dinner parties, mostly because Warren Dare ends up showcasing her to his business partners' sons who are her, and she quotes, 'potential suitors.' It's a pain enough as it is to have to keep going to these things when there's no need (One, she's the virginal Oracle of Delphi. Two, she's _taken_.); but what's worse is that the guys her father sets her up with are all total douchebags who have no appreciation for art or, gods forbid, _the middle class_.

She swears, if she has to _'make nice with young Walter here'_ who _'increased our stocks by eight percent last year!' _one more time, she'll go batshit crazy.

"Your fault for being a rich-ass heiress, princess." Nico quips, making her realize that she was thinking out loud. She glares at him.

"Stop calling me that."

His grin was as crooked as his tie. "Nah. Messing with you is too fun."

The Oracle huffs in frustration, irritably twiddling a lock of her red hair between her fingers. "Remind me again why I ever thought it was a good idea to make you my date for this thing?"

The twenty-year-old son of Hades just shrugged. "Dunno. I gave up trying to understand what goes in your head years ago."

She rolls her eyes, but chooses not to retort. Instead, for the she-doesn't-even-know-anymore time that night, she anxiously pulls at the wine red fabric of her dress. "Does it look okay?"

He idly glances at it out of the corner of his eye. "Do you want me to be honest or should I sugarcoat?"

She doesn't understand why this comment gets to her – Nico makes quips like that all the time; maybe it's her overall shitty night – but she snaps.

"Damn it, di Angelo! Is it really _that_hard to compliment your girlfriend?" Before Nico can say anything, she storms off, heading for the massive double doors of the function room.

Stupid dinner parties, stupid itchy-as-hell dress, stupid, _stupid_ son of Hades and his stupid, _stupid_inability to give her even a single stupid complime—

Behind her, he sighs, muttering something like _'Oracles. So melodramatic.'_under his breath.

"Hey, Red, I forgot to tell you something." Nico calls out, catching up to her as his rough, calloused hand reaches for her elbow. She spins around to look at him.

"What?"

Her anger falters when he smiles crookedly at her. "You look beautiful, you know. I mean it."

The witty retort dies in her throat and she flushes scarlet. She wishes he wouldn't say that so sincerely, so honestly that it makes her know that he means it with every fiber of his being.

She sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Gods, Nico. Stop doing complete 180's like that. You're giving me whiplash. Not to mention a massive migraine."

Nico shrugs, grinning at her. "It's all part of being a son of Hades. Unpredictable is sort of our default setting."

Rachel tries – _oh,_ she tries _so hard_– to keep the smile from showing on her face, but it's hopeless. It's hard to stay mad at him when he's looking at her like that.

"You can be so annoying sometimes." She tells him resignedly, which makes him grin wider.

"Come on," he says. "Let's go in there before your dad thinks I kidnapped you again." Her lips twitch upwards. Inwardly, Rachel marvels at how he can turn her bad mood around so quickly.

He holds out his arm to her, like a proper gentleman, and she almost laughs out loud because Nico di Angelo is anything but proper.

But then she remembers. She remembers how he lets her win most of their arguments. She remembers how his hand never strays far from the small of her back whenever they're together, how he's always ready to catch her if she trips. She remembers how he steps inbetween her and a monster whenever there's an attack, how he always makes sure that she's safe. And, even though he never said it, she knows he cut his trip to Italy short to go to this dinner with her.

She hooks her arm around his, leaning on him and burying her face in his shoulder.

"Let's get this stupid party over with so that we can go home." She mumbles.

"And then we can eat the rest of that cookie dough and watch crappy late-night soap operas in Spanish." He adds, making her smile.

It's moments like these that remind the Oracle why she fell for the Ghost King in the first place.

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><p><strong>Review, loves!<strong>


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